


Everything Adds Up

by HeyHaiPotatoes



Category: Deltarune (Video Game), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Explicit Language, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-17 13:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16517354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyHaiPotatoes/pseuds/HeyHaiPotatoes
Summary: A disgruntled veteran talks about their memories of a notable figure from their youth.





	1. Monologue

**Author's Note:**

> Light is a great thing. Light feeds the plants, sustaining all life across the world with fresh air to breathe. Light is reflected off of the surface of everything, giving eyes beautiful arrays of color. Light gives us sight. In short, light is life. So as not to be taken lightly for the grammatically short connection, it truly is. 
> 
> But light creates dark.
> 
> By giving definition to one, the other forms, so that balance may always be achieved. So, in another way, light is also dark. That doesn’t make it wrong, doesn’t make it right. 
> 
> It just is. They just are. 
> 
> In these ways, across all of space and time, the hypothesis that forms is that there will be constants. Some things will never change, will always be true. Despite how far and unrelated two divergences occur, as long as these lines all came from the same point, so long as the events began from the same source. Remakes upon remakes of the same assets, some expanding, some detracting. 
> 
> A prophecy. A myth. A legend. A story.
> 
> Two powers. Two struggles. Two sects. Two sides of the tale.
> 
> Heroes. Victims. Friends. Adventurers.
> 
> A lost spectator. A lone survivor. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
> 
> The culmination of being.
> 
> Lives, once connected, now shattered.
> 
> A goal to strive towards. 
> 
> A choice to be made.
> 
> The chance for redemption.
> 
> And then, 
> 
> …
> 
> … nothing.
> 
> The parallels go on -- some deliberate, intentional, so to say. But they are too many to number here. Too much work for so much uncertainty. Dark is the path that lies ahead, after all, dimmed by doubts and queries. But, just because we can’t see the answer right away, doesn’t mean it’s not there. Standing, crystal clear.

So. Storytelling time. 

Those who had the _tolerance_ to be around me for any given unit of time would always tell me I sucked at it. Thoughts were always jumbled, and I would give the punchline before doing the work leading up to it. Retelling is just embarrassing, admitting defeat that I couldn’t even get through it the first time without fucking up. Ended up not speaking at all, unless I got pissed off. Doesn’t matter now, but I guess that’s as good an intro as any, for myself. Who I am doesn’t really matter, and you’ll find out enough anyways, so let’s just get this shit started. 

There was this human kid I knew. They were a lil’ creepy, quiet fella, but came from a good family. An actual home. Anyone could tell that they were having a tough time with something -- I always chalked it up to their only problem being split parents. The fucker could still see both of them whenever they wanted. False pity, I supposed. “Oh woe is me, life sucks and I’m bored.” You know the types, they sit around and cry about what they don’t have instead of valuing what they do. I can’t stand ‘em -- though I guess I couldn’t stand anyone at that point -- so I made it a point not to fuck with me, even when we _had_ to interact. I’m not even sure my choices would’ve had any impact on ‘em, but you gotta regret the shots you don’t take. 

Fuck hindsight. 

It started way before I ever really sat down and talked to ‘em. Their mom used to be my teach, you see, and knowing someone with such compassion and warmth will teach anyone observant enough around them what exactly they care most about. 

Teaching was one of them, but her kids easily topped that, as well as anything else I could list off for length’s sake. 

Her oldest, biological (if that’s even the right descriptive word for the result of our evolution to this point) kid -- a sweet, outgoing, and ambitious tyke -- never gave her any trouble. It wasn’t too odd to see her drop him off at sporting and extracurricular events, giving him a few confiding words of praise and inspiration before driving back to wherever she needed to be. _That_ kid was a god damned ray of sunshine wherever he went -- practically angelic -- helping tutor classmates when they didn’t quite understand a problem, making friends, and other gay shit kids do before they become self aware. Thing is, when this one discovered the concept of shame, he never let it get in his way. He actually went off to university -- can you believe that? The independent fuck was the first one in our small mountain town to leave for something like that. 

His sibling, though. Adopted. The one I’ve been talking about before. They would always have problems being on time. And I mean, I’m no saint, that was one of my vices as well -- but this dude had it more consistent. 

It didn’t matter what it was: daycare, preschool, school, after school events, sports, movies, birthday parties -- hell, fucking church -- they would always make their family late. It started becoming apparent when their parents signed the both of them up and only one of their kids would ever show up. It’s a shame, since their brother cared for them almost as much as their mom did. For the longest time, he was their only friend.

Doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. Their eyes, always baggy, something always off about making eye contact. Eventually, they just grew their hair long enough to the point where they could “make pretend” by staring at folks through the shaggy bangs covering their face. Laughing spontaneously, at ill-mannered times. Only speaking as much as needed before doing the bare minimum. Leaving as soon as the opportunity presented itself so they could go off and do their own thing.

Like I said, a lil’ creepy, quiet fella. 

My-teach-slash-their-mom couldn’t hide her concern for her second child. I don’t blame her -- hell, it’s hard to raise one kid, and her and her old man decided to take on a second. She never once let it affect her attitude once she got on school grounds. 

However, there was always something very off about her at the very end of the day. It would only ever last for a split second, but it was there if you were fast enough to catch it. So when this problem kid got old enough to join the elementary class, I was the first to distance myself from them. Who could make such a nice lady sad? But it got weirder than what I thought.

This kid’s attitude would seemingly change at random. 

Rarely, it would be for extended periods of time. These phases lasting for longer than a month were very few. I could probably count them on one hand. 

There was one year they were almost _nice_. Learned how to play the piano and actually went to the classes their mom appointed for ‘em. (She was the instructor, but still. They weren’t listening to anything else she was asking of them, so it still came as a shock.) And here’s the kicker -- FuckFace McGee actually _applied_ what they learned and performed for folks at the hospital. Their mom had to take them still, but they didn’t throw as much of a drag as they did about everything else. 

Other times, it would only last for a day. A week, at most for these short periods. They wouldn’t really change too drastically. A change in temperment. Some sudden interest they threw themselves into before acting like they never cared about it in the first place. Some sport, some celebrity, some hobby. Hah, I almost forgot about the time they pretended to be a fucking clown. 

(Mime? Eh, fuck it, that’s not important.)

The longest I’ve ever seen the kid act normally for any period of time was the time leading up to the incident, but I’ll get into that some other time. The point is, the fella was somewhat of an unstable type. Harmlessly so, but deranged all the same. A source of constant worry for their family, creating barriers for anyone interested in ‘em, and doing whatever they damn well-pleased when the whimsy hit ‘em.

Yet regardless of every reason why they shouldn’t’ve, they managed to keep regular friends through their school years. Two, if I’m recalling right. 

(Apparently, they played some pretty good pranks. Fair -- borderline intrusive at times --but fair. Almost always the prankee couldn’t help but laugh at themselves. Never made the pranker the popular type, though.)

I guess the short of it is I wanted nothing to do with them, so that’s what I did. 

The long reality of it is so much more complicated than one sentence has words and space for.


	2. Noise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War changes everything about a person. Everything about their world. But sometimes, there's still a remnant of who they were inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A flickering of perspective appears, showing a hooded figure standing alone in a room, surrounded by conspiracy and clutter, followed by an audible beeping. The future is ready.
> 
> “Across so many of our collected readings, time got fucked up. Look -- here, this wave gets paused for literal centuries only to resume -- there. This plane of existence only lasts for 10 seconds after the origin point, and the tendrils of time flowing from it for even less. Entire worlds are blinking out of existence only to be found they’ve gone backwards or forwards, scrambled in its own continuity before fading out completely. Something out there is causing time itself to end, and we are powerless to stop it. All because of this damn anomaly…”
> 
> The soft crunching of papers worn from use rustles the camera microphone.
> 
> “These reports are showing that every single traceable moment converged on this one point here, despite any differences, and spit out all of these dying worlds. We can’t even imagine the lives lost for fear of our own. To even begin to measure the gravity of this would take lifetimes to accept. The value has no concept.
> 
> And here -- what is the meaning of this -- pockets of something materializing only to disappear hours later -- but they’re confined to the same timeline they emerged from? One after the other, a series of unrelated clusters forming tumors on the lines they connect to, before that world implodes upon itself. I’m absolutely flabbergasted.”
> 
> A moment of silence passes as the figure looks again over the mess surrounding them in darkness.
> 
> “There... is one line that seems to have gone on for the longest, and we need to find out why it outlasts ours.”
> 
> The figure sighs, and the blurred image cuts out.

“Oh, you're still here? That's just peachy.” 

Susie leaned into her crouch by the fire pit, deltoids flexing idly as her body relaxed her back into the pose. A two-handed battle axe much larger than herself rests in her hands.

“I suppose you've found out who I am by now.” She takes a moment to flash a threatening smile at you. “Scared?”

Embers from the dying fire are wafted higher into the night sky with a slight breeze. Your hands subconsciously go to your shoulders, palms rubbing for friction, for heat. You've listened for the past half hour to Susie's recollections, but you never asked her to say anything at all.

Nonetheless a life story.

You shake your head, and explain that you enjoy the company of someone who doesn't immediately want to pummel you into the ground.

“Heh, yeah, well…” Her smirk drops, revealing the battlescarred and aging face hiding behind it. “I learned that you don't always have to battle a long time ago. From an old friend.” Deciding that now is a good time for silence, the both of you watch the flames dim.

The grizzled warrior before you would scare anyone away at first sight. It _should've_ stopped you from approaching. Her dreaded auburn locks are tied up behind her face into a braided ponytail that trails behind her, lined with the dust and bones of ex-challengers. The end of the braid is dyed in dried blood and dirt. A nasty scar goes over her left eye, covered by a dark eyepatch that wraps around her skull. It's hard to make out, but underneath her tattered poncho extends the snout she's been speaking with. Her armor is simple, but effective: iron plates cover her chest and back, with leather armor covering her joints for maximum flexibility. Spiked pauldrons brace her shoulders, tied into place by her weapon harness that carries it when she isn't on alert. The battle axe in her grasp is notched, presumably tallying her foes in their entirety. You can barely make out a tattoo of some kind on the only part of her ensemble that exposes skin -- her left tricep. It looks like… card suits? It's hard to tell, since it has since faded in time.

“What, I tell you a story about my childhood and _that's_ what you want to know more about?” Susie sneers at you. “Forget it, that's for another time. Not important anyways.”

You're certain it looks just like a coat of arms of sorts, or maybe the sign for a club or meeting place, but you keep your thoughts to yourself about the matter.

Another breeze picks up, blowing right through you. 

“Ah, shit!” Susie jumps up from her squat. “It's blowing the fire out!” 

Her pouch's contents are spilled on the gravel, clawed hands scrambling to find the tools she searched for. You make an attempt to help, but before you can even get up from your seat on the ground, she's already set more kindle ablaze. She squats down again, shielding the pitiful glow from the forces of nature trying to snuff it out. Her gentle breaths of life bring light to your humble camp, and when the fire is ready, she throws another log in. It lands with a thud, and cracks as the wood splits. Satisfied, she takes a seat on the trunk next to you.

“S'dangerous to go without light at night. I'm sure you already knew that.” 

You somberly nod your acquiescence.

“Shame I never learned fire magic. Would've been hella useful for times like these.”

Unfamiliar with her archaic slang, you smile awkwardly and keep nodding. “Hella” indeed.

Her wrinkled face breaks out into a toothy grin, guffawing boisterously. “Hah! Don’t worry about it, kid.”

Susie looks off into the distance for a couple of seconds before readdressing you.

“How old are you, anyways?” 

You take a breath to answer--

“Nevermind. Too young for someone of my age, just by looks alone.”

Was that a… joke?

She gives you a smug sneer. Almost like she’d do what she wants regardless of your input. It would go against everything else you’ve learned about her, yet still it unsettles you.

Not more than the cold. You’re stuck here until the night passes.

“Y’know, it’s been a while since I’ve had someone proper to talk to. Years, almost.”

Susie taps her worn boots against the hollowing trunk she sits upon. She looks frustrated.

“Fuck this end of the world bullshit. People used to have lives, families.”

You ask her if she had one -- you know, a family.

“Me? Nah. I emerged from the ocean, fully-formed. I think I was supposed to have a tail, but it probably fell off before I reached the shore.”

Her deadpan stare makes you wonder if that was another joke. One sneaky glance at the confusion on your face breaks the dry spell, however, and she cracks another smile open.

“Haha, I came from somewhere alright. But my folks aren’t the ones were mentioning.” A shadow falls over her eyes. “Not in the slightest.” Her face tilts back up, remeeting your gaze.

“You ever experience failure, kid? I don’t mean just losing once and then getting the chance to make up for it. I mean not even having a chance to prove yourself before people automatically assume you’re just the worst. Because of who you are, or some preconceived notion with no grounds for reason. It starts out small, but spreads like a weed, rooting itself in every aspect of your life.”

Taking a second to place her weapon in its holster for a second, she leans forward towards you and continues, keeping her hands empty for _refined_ gestures.

“I’ve had almost every single authority figure in my life give up on me in mere moments. The ones who were supposed to guide me, help me grow -- well, let’s just say the nice ones pretended they didn’t think I was a dangerous fuck up.”

Susie shuffles her feet, adjusting her weight to lean more on the trunk rather than her legs.

“What kind of family would let that happen to their own? Fuck, they even reciprocated it. I couldn’t trust any of them, couldn’t lean on ‘em for nothin’.” Another dry smile splits her face. “In the end, all it did was prepare me for this kill or be killed world. I suppose I should thank them, if I ever see any of ‘em again.”

You continue to sit, reluctantly accepting. This wasn’t your silence to break, even with any existing feelings of comfort you wished to offer. This old hand of war had dropped her guard, put her weapons away, and garnered some level of trust from your presence. It was up to her if she wanted to break it or not. Turns out, she let that be the closing statement of the night. The both of you broke eye contact, instead turning your faces to the compassion the fire offered. You found the light inside of you emblazoned with the tales of Susie’s past, knowing that this pale soul beside you would most likely do anything to protect any figments of the past she could find. Civility was rare in these days, after all. 

That reminds you: why you had been traveling in this direction in the first place. Turning to face Susie, you open your lips to -- oh, she’s asleep. Must’ve been exhausted from fighting off this cruel world for so long. The subtle rising and falling of her chest is the only giveaway of her rest. From far away, she looks as if deep in thought. Hopefully, that’s enough to scare off any would-be troublemakers. You gaze once more into the dancing flames, thankful for the respite from the wind. You guess your trip back home can wait a little longer.

This close up, her “camp” is just the one fire pit, and an outline of dirt on the ground from where Susie must’ve been sleeping. There’s no evidence of food ever being prepared, or that she’s even left this spot for a couple days now. It rests in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by dying trees with empty branches swaying in the night. It’s a wonder that there hasn’t been any sign of struggle, but if even _you’ve_ heard of The Butcher, Susie, surely the denizens of this fading world know and fear her. After having all these chats with her, you almost think it must’ve been a misnomer.

Almost.

A deep breath recentered you in your world. With closed eyes, you could better hear the sounds of everything around you. Of life, struggling to push through in this decrepit landscape. Something quiet scampered by, its small size not making much noise beyond the crumnmch of weak foliage breaking between the pressure of its feet and the cold ground. It was scattered and unsure, taking frequent pauses before trotting ahead to wherever its destination lay. When it got far enough away, the crackling of the fire pit overtook your hearing, warming your will and your soul. The sounds sent tingles to the edge of your fingertips, the feeling of sparks resting at the very ends of your hands. It danced from finger to finger, dipping up and down between the spaces. Legerdemain, of sorts. Concentrating, you sent the sparks back into the fire, and felt all the better for it. Eyes still closed, you searched around. Hearing for beings that weren’t really there. It was too dark to listen. A hand reached out and gently took one of your outstretched palms in its grasp. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know who it was. Familiar, yet distant all the same. The being you’ve been searching for all this time. You knew they were close, you could practically taste it. Their energy was rocking you to your core, gifting the infinite patience you’ve had to endure to make it this far. Your reward was near.

A buffet of noise roused you from your trance, turning you in its direction before your eyes had fully opened. There was always something to happen, to keep you from completing your meditation. It too woke Susie, who jumped up from her sitting position on the trunk, axe at the ready.

The both of you stare in deafening silence at the remains of a fallen tree. It had rotted to the core, and its time to fall had arrived. 

For a while, everything was still. 

Perfectly. Still. 

“What a nice wake-up call.” Susie fluidly replaced her axe in its handle, the _schlink_ of metal chafing against metal announcing that the world had been unpaused. You remembered you could breathe and did so, deeply. “That’s really the only way to tell the passage of time here. Every once in a while, a tree will fall.” She sat down in her patch of matted grass with a grunt, folding her legs in front of her as she did so. “Just another sign of this dying world.”

You ask her what she means by that, and she answers with a grimace: “That’s just something I heard from someone who knows a lot more about it than I do.” 

She… doesn’t go into much more detail than that.

You don’t push her for more information.


	3. Hunger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, hon! What would you like to eat for breakfast? Oh, eggs? That sounds lovely! I’ll whip some up for you in just a moment. How would you like them done? Scrambled? Of course, hon. You know, I’ve thought it was always interesting, all the different ways you can cook eggs. Boiled, poached, fried, baked, over easy, runny. I saw this recipe the other day, you can even make them fluffy! But, isn’t it quite the peculiar thing. You can create so many different outcomes with just this one ingredient. Such potential locked behind such a fragile shell… what’s that, you’re getting hungry? Alright love, I’ll get started on it right away.

Susie clears the air with a quick, thorough hack of her lungs and lunge of her spit. “I’ve got something else I want you to know, kid.” She stares at you in such a way that her pupils seem to disappear. “That town you’re heading to? It doesn’t actually exist.”

You can’t help but laugh -- you grew up there! You have fond memories of all your friends and family, of your schooling and of the establishments you all would frequent, you tell her. You -- you pause. How did she know where you were heading?

She answers with a grunt. “It’s written all over you: what you’re wearing, the condition that your clothes are in. Those letters in your bag. Be it far from me to harm a postmaster.” 

It emits another nervous laugh from you. Postmaster? That’s a first.

“What else would you call it? Your homing magic -- that thing you did with the fire.” She motions towards it, despite the fact that your act had been completed. She realizes this too late, and sets her extended hand awkwardly on the spot next to her. It only looks now like she’s asking you to sit next to her, but you didn’t tell her that. 

“I, uh. Thought only postmasters possessed something like that.”

You tell her you thought she was asleep during it.

“Hah! Well, I guess we’re both mistaken. Alright then, if you’re not a postmaster, what exactly are you?”

You shrug. You tell her it’s something that you’ve always had, and that you were just trying to get back home.

“Ah, that. I was going to ask you why you thought there was a village anywhere around here.” She motions coolly to herself, giving you the biggest toothy smirk. “I’m a wanted criminal, kid.”

Her expression suddenly sobers. “If I lived anywhere near a population, the price on my head would only keep going up as I defended myself from _wannabe baby_ bounty hunters.”

“The only reason you’re not dead is that I haven’t seen another person in ages.” At this, her gaze falls. 

That… that can’t be right. You tell her you only just heard about another scene of crime that had her _modus operandi_ written all over it from the last town you left, and that was only a week ago. Granted, it was miles away, but Susie’s camp looks as if it has been in this place for months. Something wasn’t adding up.

This news only seems to depress her. “That wouldn’t surprise me. There’s probably a couple of idiots who don’t realize the weight of the life that they’re taking. That type just pisses me off,” she broods quietly. “Wouldn’t surprise me one. Bit.” 

Susie pauses, uncertainty gracing her brow as she studies you a little bit more closely. “Kid, I…” She struggles with the words getting caught on her tongue, fighting a battle between her desire to confess some secret versus the effect it might have if she tells it. A big huff of air clears her mouth, defeat on her face.

“Forget about it, I got something else I want to talk to you about.”

“Y’know, I used to know a kid like you.” She laughs, pointing in your direction. “I was reminded of him because you don’t carry any weapons on you. _No_ means of defense whatsoever. What, got a death wish or somethin’?”

You shrug in response. “Whatever, doesn’t really change the fact that you’re here now.”

“This guy you remind me of, we met when I was still a kid. Still in school. I was supposed to be running an errand, but I got lost. Ended up in a… pretty dark place. I wasn’t alone, but my buddy and I. Neither one of us knew what to do. And some guy, appears from thin air. Started preaching about the importance of doing good by others, how he wanted to be our friends, how it was our sole duty to be some saviors of the world or some shit. It was at that point I almost barfed, so ditched my buddy _and_ this loser to try to figure things out for myself.” She stifles a dry laugh, the faraway look in her eyes returning for the moment.

“It worked out, for a while. But I was the person my family thought I was, the only person they could even hope I could be. Brutal at worst, abrasive at best. Attacking everything in sight and offending anything else I couldn’t. The people of that dark time in my life were scared of me, and because of that, I couldn’t see the few who were trying to get through my cracks to get to know me. The select few that I would come to think of as friends. I came to accept this persona, this ideology that was forced on me. I became my own villain. But it’s too much effort to be something I just, I. I just wasn’t.”

“This friend, the one that you remind me of, he helped me see the truth of the matter. That it wasn’t anyone’s problem but their own that they only saw me as this big scary heartless… monster.”

Another chuckle.

“He did, too. At first. The little fuck wanted to learn how to be scary like me, can you believe that?” 

Susie takes this time to pause, and her stomach takes this time to voice its dismay. The rumbling of her tummy reminds you of your own -- it should’ve been morning by now, shouldn’t’t’ve? You lean to the side to look into your bag for the dried rations you packed for this trek, pushing aside the letters you’ve been writing over the years for family and friends for your jerky snacks.

Your hand grabs air.

Confused, you keep searching in your bag.

“You’re not going to find anything in there.” A hand finds your shoulder, and you look up to see Susie standing over you. “Food wise, I mean. It’s gone.”

You accuse her of stealing your food.

“Think about what you’ve just said. You’ve been looking at me this entire time -- when have I ever had the opportunity to grab anything in your bag, nonetheless get this close to you since you’ve been here?” 

She sits down next to you, dropping her hand from your body to rest it next to her. 

“There’s something about this clearing. It makes food disappear, but it also makes the need disappear, too.” She absentmindedly rubs her abdomen, quelling the emptiness inside. “I still _feel_ hungry -- hell, I’m starving -- but I haven’t withered like you would expect.” 

Her hand reaches up from her abdomen to your face, taking it in her palm with the gentleness of a mother. It feels… soft? You were thinking a barbarian like her would have calloused palms.

It drops from your face to grab your shoulder, gripping you so hard it hurts a little. 

“Fuck. I’m so hungry, I’m tempted to eat you right now.”

Susie’s mouth parts, your face greeted with her warm, desperate breaths.

All you see are the pointed ends of her carnivorous teeth, your name written on each of them.

Her tongue slides out of the right side of her face, from behind her back molars. Long and thin, like a snake, it rakes across her top and bottom row in two quick passes. Back and forth. It makes it way to your face and taps the end of your nose in quick succession before slithering back into her maw, teeth now slightly ajar to allow its reentry. 

“Just kidding.”

Her grip loosens on your shoulder, arm retracting back into its usual spot knitted closely to her side. Now that you’ve gotten closer to her, she looks much, much older than she did when you first met her. 

“You would just disappear like everything else I’ve tried to eat in this place.”

Another breeze blows by, betraying you to your fear. A shiver goes down your spine.

A rabbit -- the one you heard earlier, you like to think -- took this time to scramble by, crumnching the dried earth with every pat of its back paws.

“Look at it, how stuffed it is, and how sulken its eyes are.”

It was true -- it was the fattest rabbit you’ve ever seen. The fur of the rabbit was sheen, symptomatic of good health, but the rabbit’s face only showed fear and desperation. 

“I’ve killed it hundreds of times, but it keeps coming back. The second I blink after turning it into a corpse, it disappears, and comes bouncing back out of the same hole it came from.” 

Her clawed hands tighten, white-knuckling into two balled fists of frustration. “I swear I’ve smelled rabbit stew every time I’ve tried to lay down and sleep here.”

You ask how that can even happen.

“It doesn’t.”


End file.
